


The Demon, the Angel, and the Hitchhiker

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Supportive Castiel, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren’t innocents, either of them; they were killers. They were survivors. They did what they had to do.</p>
<p>So what would Castiel have to do, if he learned that she was pregnant?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon, the Angel, and the Hitchhiker

_Castiel killed a nephilim._

Yeah, he was tricked into doing it, but the fact remained that that woman’s life was a justifiable cost to him.There was nothing demonic in her, just angel grace and a human soul, but she was in the way of Heaven’s plans. She was an abomination.

Meg felt guilty (fucking angel, fucking  _emotions_  rubbing off on her) for thinking that way, but how could she not? Her and Cas? They weren’t innocents, either of them; they were killers. They were survivors. They did what they had to do.

So what would Castiel have to do, if he learned that she was pregnant? What would his allies among the angels have to do, if they learned that their leader had been fucking a demon and the little dope had knocked her up? How was that even fucking  _possible_? Biologically, it made no sense. Sam would probably have an explanation, but there was no way she was asking him, because no way could he keep the secret. The Winchesters already knew they were fucking; they didn’t need to know they’d won the booby prize.

The little hitchhiker was her problem, first of all, not Cas’s, not Sam’s, not anybody else’s. A fucking inconvenience, at the very least, riding along under her ribs, making her hungry, making her tired, making her worry. Making her wonder if the man she’d shared a bed with all those times could be trusted as much as she’d wanted to think. And even if he could, there were so many others. Some who would hunt Meg down before the little brat had a chance to breathe. And others who would want it alive, chasing her all over while she dragged some blue-eyed, smirking brat after her, teaching it to use an angel blade before it could talk. Making it like her. Making it a killer.

She hadn’t come to any decisions when Cas arrived, on time as always for their usual meeting. She was laying on the bed, arms folded across her stomach and frowning at the ceiling, and she was proud of herself for not jumping when he popped in. Fucker really needed to learn to use a door. She wished she was standing up. Wished she was facing him. 

"You’re late," she lied, giving him a quick glance. He’d left the coat and jacket somewhere, but he’d found another tie. Castiel’s relationship with clothing was weird and unpredictable, and she wondered if he’d tracked down the tie because he knew she liked to pull on it. The thought almost made her smile. 

Cas didn’t answer her, just kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged by her side on the bed, looking at her earnestly.

"Hey, Clarence. Got something on my face?" He smiled, reaching out to stroke her hip gently, the same way he did after they fucked, like she was so damn precious or something. She never said how much she liked it. But there was something dark in his eyes, and he stopped smiling.

"Were you afraid to tell me?" he asked quietly. Her heart raced. No more time to think, then. No more time to try to guess, to figure out a contingency plan if he went all Angel of the Lord. She tried to answer him, but no sound came out. What the fuck was she supposed to say? Because yes, she was afraid. She was afraid of him and the angels and the demons and every goddamn thing from here to purgatory that was going to want to use or kill the little bastard that was currently giving her a stomach flu. She was afraid because she had found the limit of what the angel could be to her, had found the line beyond which she was on her own again.

He nodded at her silence, his hand still resting on her hip as if he’d forgotten it was there.

"Of course. We never talked about this. I didn’t even think it was…" Castiel looked around the room distractedly, then back at her face. She wasn’t crying. Fuck no. She wasn’t stiff and ready to run any second.  _I’m not afraid_ , she told herself and the hitchhiker.  _We’re not afraid of him_.

"Meg, I won’t tell you what to do," he continued, taking his hand off her hip. "But I will tell you what _I_ would do, if we ever had a child. I would protect it with my life." Meg couldn’t look at him. If she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to keep her face from telling him everything.

"I would teach it to fly, if it had my wings. I would be…I would be very happy, if it had your courage. I would be very proud to be the father of your child, if we ever had one. I would fight the armies of Heaven and Hell to keep you both safe."

"Fuck," Meg whispered, finally looking at him and reaching out to take his hand. "Come here, angel," she told him, pulling him down until his forehead was pressed against hers and his body lay over her body. She put him on like armor, then closed her eyes for a moment, feeling him over her all warm and earnest and fucking  _good_.

"Well, Clarence, we better make sure our blades are good and sharp," she said with a dry laugh. “‘Cause you and me are having a baby."


End file.
